I was touched in scanning some “Mom” poems. She is just down the hall.
She dozed off in a Stryker bed.
Her head tilted and cricked.
She mumbled and snored a bit.
It was an afternoon nap
and we just were.
Might I stay until bedtime
to tuck her in and say a prayer?
I’ll leave the light on and the door cracked.
I could be just down the hall
beneath that same light.
“Oh Father,
Come to her in her dreams like the daddy
she once adored.
Oh Jesus, take her hand,
like the big brother she once looked up to.
Oh Comforter,
Lay the baby Jesus in her dreams to hold
as she did each of us in a room such as this.
Oh come and be the light in the hall.
Come and be the opened door.”
“I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep: for thou, Lord, only makest me dwell…
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Gerald the Writer 
Makes me think of my mom. How much we loved our mothers. Last year I took lilacs from the garden onher birthday to her tomb. This year I told her she would have to wait awhile. Janet
Nice.